


It Must Be a Christmas X-File!

by greekowl87



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fluff, MSR, Post-Episode: s06e06 How the Ghosts Stole Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21971935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greekowl87/pseuds/greekowl87
Summary: Another fluffy MSR post ep attempt at "How the Ghosts Stole Christmas" written during the Christmas holiday.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	It Must Be a Christmas X-File!

**Author's Note:**

> Post-ep ‘How the Ghosts Stole Christmas’ with mentions of ‘Christmas Carol and ‘Emily.’ I don’t think this is a stand out awesome fic or my best work, but I wanted to get something done for Christmas. I hope you all enjoy it. This isn’t how I imagined it turning out but with no real direction and written with less than 24 hours with holiday activities, I’m happy with it. Still, I hope you like it. Fluff. Implied smut but I just didn’t have time to get into it. P.S. No beta so apologies for crappy dialogue and typos :( I hope it doesn’t suck too badly.

Scully parked her car and turned off the ignition as Mulder leaned forward to glance out the windshield. The snow earlier had bee light and fleeting. Now, the snow came down in big flakes like cotton balls sticking to everything. She chuckled lightly and remarked, “So much for a white Christmas. I bet the weathermen were surprised.”

“They were calling for rain, it was thundering last night, it was just a flurry, clear today, and now a full-on blizzard,” he commented dryly. “Remember the blizzard of 95?”

“Don’t remind me and you’re not driving home in this weather either, Mulder.”

“Aw, Scully, I’ve already caused up enough time and ruined probably enough Christmases for you. Bill didn’t seem to happy to see my face this year. Your mother tolerated me at best. Tara was Switzerland. Your nephew was cute though.” He smiled. “But I have already overstayed my welcome.”

“Mulder,” Scully said, “I was glad to have you there with me. I told you this before, I wouldn’t want it any other days. Come on. You can crash on the couch tonight.”

“Scully,” he countered.

“I’m not giving you a choice. Apparently, we shot each other, I don’t want to shoot you again for not listening to my wisdom. Besides, I really don’t mind. It’s Christmas after all, Mulder.”

He glanced at back out the windshield as the snowfall conjured up harsh New England winters he had experienced as a child. “Okay.” Mulder bit his lip and smiled. “Let me go grab my overnight bag. I’ll meet you at your door.”

“I’ll see you upstairs.”

The snow crunched under their shoes as Scully made her way cautiously up the unshoveled walkway to her apartment, warily watching for ice. She unlocked the main door and rode the elevator upwards to her third-floor apartment. She unlocked the apartment door, turned on the foyer light, and dropped her keys onto the table next to the door. In the corner by her desk, a small Christmas tree sat lightly decorated. “At least the timer came on,” she murmured to herself.

Ever since her father’s passing on Christmas a few years earlier, she tended not to decorate as much for Christmas. The tree was enough, maybe a wreath if she felt like putting in extra effort, but for the most part, she had just kept up a tree. Even then the decorations seemed less and less each year. Scully kicked off her boots by the door and instantly lost three inches. She heard Mulder’s familiar footsteps. She opened the door slightly and he pushed it open.

“It’s really coming down out there, Scully. If it keeps up like this, we might have at least six inches by tomorrow morning.”

“See, it is a good thing you’re spending the night.”

He carried his overnight bag over his shoulder and smirked. 

“What?”

“I always forget how…”

“Short?”

“For lack of a better word?”

She was smiling at him and Mulder shivered. She locked the door behind him and nodded to the couch. “Go make yourself comfortable. It’s only seven. There’s still five hours of Christmas left,” she told him. “Maybe there’s something on television.”

“A Christmas Story? A Christmas Carol? The Grinch Who Stole Christmas?” 

“Go find something, G-man. I’m going to the kitchen to get us something special. Are you hungry at all?”

“I’m good.” Mulder dropped his overnight by the couch and spied the Christmas tree in the corner. “Looks like you decorated less this year, Scully.”

“I don’t see a reason too, ever since dad died. But I’ve always loved Christmas. Ahab would take down the tree first thing day after Christmas.” He could hear the sadness in her voice. “I rebelled in my own little way and kept it up until January 10th give or take.”

“It looks nice,” he commented. “I like it.”

“Thank you,” she called. “I got this bottle that a friend from Quantico brought back from Dublin, Ireland.”

“A bottle of what?”

“Genuine Irish whiskey,” she called in a sing-song voice. “Since you’re not driving anywhere and it’s Christmas, come have a drink with me.”

“Agent Scully,” he crooned. 

“Shut up, Mulder.”

He cast a secretive glance as Scully busied herself in the kitchen and made a quick dash to her small tree. He quickly dug out a small wrapped box that he had hidden weeks before so it would be in view when she would sit. He rushed back to her couch before she could carry the whiskey glasses over to them. “Snow is really coming down out there,” he remarked casually.

“You already said that. I could start a fire. It does get a little drafty in here.”

“I’m fine, Scully. You still have that space heater right?”

“I brought it to the basement after Thanksgiving. Remember when the heat broke?”

“Right. Well, I can show off my Indian Guide skills and do the fire for you.”

“Go right ahead, Master of the Flame.”

Mulder watched her kick off her boots and tuck her legs under her. She rested her arm on the back of the couch and sipped the whiskey amused. He could swear she was flirting with him. He took a drink of liquid courage himself and started to build a little fire that he could feed the bigger logs into. “Thank you again, Scully, for today.”

“What part of it?”

“All of it. Coming to the haunted house, letting me spend Christmas with you and your family… thanks by the way for defending my maiden honor against Bill…” She laughed. “And now. I really, really mean it. It has been so long since I’ve had a…regular…no…nice, easy Christmas that I have actually enjoyed.”

“And you’re here now, safe from the cold. Baby, it’s cold outside,” she teased. “Come back here, Mulder. The fire started. Come enjoy your drink.”

He dusted his hands and jeans off before going back to the couch where Scully watched him with a little carefree smile he hadn’t seen in ages. He picked up his glass and sat across from her on the couch. “No place I’d rather be.”

“I wanted to thank you,” she said after a moment of contemplation.

“Why?”

“Why did you invite me out there last night? To a haunted house of Christmas Eve?”

“To investigate…”

“Mulder, you know better than to lie to me.”

“I wanted you there with me. I didn’t want…after last year…I didn’t want you to have to go through it alone.”

“So you used a guise for a fake x-file to get me out there?”

“I know you would come if I asked for your help,” he answered. “I wasn’t sure otherwise.”

Mulder swished the amber liquid in the glass and took a sip. Scully, touched by his gesture, took his hand and squeezed it. “Thank you.”

He relaxed and nodded. “Hey, I think Santa left you something under the tree. He must’ve visited you last night when you were over at my place.”

She narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him and turned to look at her tree. A small box with red wrapping paper and a gold bow. “What the hell?” She set her drink on the coffee table and got up to inspect it. “Mulder…” she said. “I thought we agreed not to exchange gifts.”

“We did and I now have an awesome book to read thanks to you. What does it say?”

She shook her head, a grin forming ear to ear as she brought it back to the couch to open. “To the world’s best G-woman, who continues to save my ass; Love, Mulder.” She sighed and shook her head. “You really shouldn’t have. I have nothing for you.”

“You do, every day.”

Scully took his hand and held it tightly. The air changed between them and she whispered, “Thank you, Mulder.”

“Now, open your present. I picked it out especially for. You myself.” She smiled and carefully picked at the taped edges to open it. Mulder smiled; she took as much time and precision as she did performing one of her autopsies. “Scully, just rip it open.”

“I don’t want to ruin anything.”

“You won’t, it’s in a box!”

Scully ripped the last bit open and she inspected the small silver box. “Mulder?”

“Just open it.”

She opened the box and gasped. “Mulder. Jesus, you really shouldn’t have.”

“I wanted to.” She inspected the two small earrings he had gotten him. Two pearls were surrounded in a thin layer of gold in the shape of a four-leaf clover. “I know you already own a pair of pearl earrings,” he started, “but I wanted to do something a little special.”

“Mulder, they’re lovely.”

“Really?”

“I mean that sincerely. You honestly didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

She closed the box and set it aside. The air changed between them again. “I’m glad you’re here, Mulder,” she whispered. She took his hand again. “Honestly.”

Mulder, feeling emboldened, leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips. “Sorry for the lack of mistletoe.”

“I’m not complaining.” She gave a small smile. “Except…”

“Except what?”

“I don’t know how I should take that kiss.”

“What do you mean?”

Scully tucked her legs back under her again and she sipped the whiskey contemplatively. “Well, we’re friends…partners?”

“Obviously.”

She licked her lips contemplating her next words. The past few months tumulated through her head: Diana, Antarctica, and when he said, “You’re my one in five billion.” Those ghosts had assumed that they would be perfect for a murder-suicide because they appeared to be the perfect couple. What were they? His actions were confusing; the new pearl earrings had just given her added to her confusion even more.

“So, where does that leave us?”

“What do you mean?”

“Mulder, you drag me out to a haunted house on Christmas eve, you tell me you don’t want me to go through the holiday alone, and the earrings.”

He narrowed his eyes quizzically. “If you are going to continue to speak riddles and play twenty questions with me, Scully, I might need to get some whiskey.”

“I left it on the counter.” Mulder got up to get the bottle and Scully took the moment to examine the earrings he had just given her. Her heart warmed at the thought and the possibility it could mean more. “I really like the earrings,” she called.

“I’m glad,” he smiled.

She eyed the hefty amount of alcohol he had poured into his glass. “So back to my original question, Mulder. Where does that leave us?”

He watched her momentarily and bent forward to kiss her again more slowly this time. She savored the moment tasting the drops of whiskey on his tongue as he deepened the kiss. He broke away and smiled mischievously. “Does that answer your question?”

“It’s a start.”

“I like flirty Scully,” he remarked.

“I’m not flirty.”

Her cheeks glowed in firelight, either from embarrassment or the alcohol. “It’s both,” he said, seemingly reading his mind. “And yes you are. Whiskey.” He filled up her glass again. “A fire.” He nodded to her fireplace. “And snow.”

“And only one bed,” she finished laughing.

“I can take the couch.”

“Mulder,” she sighed lovingly. “What are we though? Really?”

“Anything you want,” he told her.

Scully tucked her arm behind her neck and rested her head on it. “Six years and you don’t want to go straight to that bed of years and make amazing love?”

“In time,” she said, holding up a hand. “You’re not going anywhere soon with this weather. It’s just…I’ve always wondered, Mulder and after so many years…”

“What?”

“It’s nice to be…”

“Desired? Wanted? Loved?”

“For lack of a better word,” she said. She took a long sip from her drink to hide her flushed cheeks. “I just…I’ve wanted the same thing too, Mulder. The hallway?”

His eyebrows rose, almost surprised. “It’s never too late.”

“I know,” she laughed. She watched him quietly and Mulder recognized the gaze. “So, Christmas miracles?”

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” he laughed. “Can I?”

“What?”

He kissed her again. This time, they abandoned both of their glasses in favor of indulging in the kiss. “Lucky number three,” Mulder whispered. He kissed her again. “You’re not helping if you want to relax.”

“Mulder, now you are just beginning to sound ridiculous.”

Mulder laughed, reaching for both of their glasses. “Merry Christmas, Scully.”

She took it and clinked it against his. “To a Christmas miracle.”

“A Christmas miracle.”

The glasses rang throughout Scully’s Georgetown apartment and they both downed it in one gulp. “Well,” he began, setting both glasses aside, “this honestly feels worse than high school.”

“So how do we…” They both laughed at the awkwardness of the situation. The alcohol only added to it. “Well, as a medical doctor, when a man and a woman…”

“Scully, shut up.”

“What?”

“Let’s finish this conversation elsewhere.”

“Did anyone tell you that you are horrible at innuendo?”

“Only you but I still win your heart right?”

“Always, Mulder.”

He discarded their glasses and offered his hand.

“How many near-deaths do we need?”

“Must need Good to smack us in the head. Come on, Scully.”

“It must be a Christmas X-File,” she mumbled to herself. “Let’s stay here, Mulder.”

“Your couch?”

“Seems fitting,” she whispered. She initiated another kiss. She pulled him closer. “Christmas miracle, Mulder.”

“Christmas miracle, Scully.”

He smiled, lounged back, and Scully opened her last present for that Christmas.

-End.


End file.
